


Till the End

by The_Misplaced_World



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-04-24 08:47:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4912972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Misplaced_World/pseuds/The_Misplaced_World
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor stayed after the battle of Blackwater, just to make sure that Sansa stays alive. But he's had enough of Joffrey's antics. When things crash, Sandor takes Sansa away, meeting a few companions along the way.<br/>Robb and Catelyn lived through the Red Wedding.<br/>I'm bad at summaries, apologies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sandor chapter 1

 

He felt the tinge of sudden urgency to shake something, brake something, make something tremble in fear. He held the cloth covered in blood in his palm, the thoughts of the bastard son dying from his fingers was a sensation like no other. His eyes swayed with anger like his little bird’s body swayed to keep her feet and knees from falling towards the ground like he knew she wanted to do. It was infuriating. Suddenly, the bastard yelled, and it took him all his strength not to follow through with the thoughts spurring in his mind. “Dog,” He called with an angry tone, desperate to find something to humiliate, since the poor girl was too boring for the boy. “I don’t want to see her face anymore.” He said, his voice more quiet but with more disdain and hatred. “Bring her back to her cage.” With a short laugh of mockery, he turned on his heels and left.

Swallowing hard and sudden, The Hound stayed in his position for a moment, just to keep himself from hurling himself at the bastard, crushing his little worthless neck with his hands, hearing the piercing cries he could make with that girlish throat. He would take his little bird, he would take her and bring her home, her actual cage, and let her fly around there in a wider, more beautiful place she deserved. She would like that, he thought, fluttering about her homeland. She would smile at him, and thank him like a good little bird. He shook his head suddenly, telling himself that she would never do something like that, he was an old ugly scarred dog, not some pretty little knight she cherished in her songs.

He crossed the chambers in two easy steps, then as gently as he could, he took her in his hands and guide her towards the doors. She felt like a corpse, The Hound dragging her across the floor as he led her. He heard the small sniffs, the little mumbles she made as they hurried through the corridors. He should have left, damn him. Left during the fight, when the green fire was roaring across the water. He should have dragged her with him, consent or no, he should have. She would be closer to home by now. Since that night, when he went to her as drunk as a simple fool, asking for a song and a kiss. Or so Sansa has told him since he can’t remember a bloody thing. Sandor has been more gentle with her. At least, that’s what she’s said to him. He can’t tell the difference.

When they got to her chambers, he opened her wooden door and helped her in, letting her handmaid, Shae, take her and lead her to the bed. The young maid was getting used to him as well, not staring at his face in disgust, but more of a content way, as to say that they both have one goal here. To keep the little bird unharmed. Shea started mumbling threats but soon hurried to make a bath for the poor girl. The hound, who was unsure on how to move around the little bird since the night of the battle, even though its been days since, sat gingerly next to her. “Little bird…” He started, but she threw her head back and let out a little laugh as tears fell from her eyes.

“Oh Sandor,” She began, finally using his name rather than the ‘ser’s’ and ‘lord’s’ he never liked. “how could i be so stupid?” She asked simply, her words fleeing her lips with so much beauty he couldn’t grasp the sensation he felt around her. She was beautiful, everyone knew. But she was beyond the stories knights told in the brothels, in the training grounds, everywhere. She was so much more, and the times like these, he was glad he stayed. To be able to sit near her, and hear her shed the armor he saw her pull on herself, heavier and stronger than his and valyrian steel. “I’m such a stupid girl.” She laughed again as tears left her eyes. Sandor knew the plan, he would sit and listen, without a word, and watch her, as she shed her skin for him. Then she would stand and thank him like a proper little bird, and he would stand. Then he would leave. But today was different, he figured out when she took her hand and placed it on his. The contact was a simple thing, but sent his head rolling. “Little bird…” he said once again, unsure on why he would interrupt her.

“You think i’m stupid as well,” She shook her head, letting her firey red hair fall around her. “I think i’m stupid, believing such songs and stories, believing I would be happy with him.” She sighed then, whipping the tears.

With a snarl, he halted that simple thought. “You are not stupid.” He was bad at praises, compliments or anything of comforting, and she knew that. That’s why he never spoke. But she looked up at him, and shifted her head in a questioning way. “You are not stupid, little bird.” He repeated.

Biting her lip, she nodded silently. “As you say,” But she didn’t believe it, he knew. She wouldn’t believe such a thing. She made it in her head that she was stupid, to try and keep Joffrey from hurting her more. If she believed it, she wouldn’t have to feel bad every time he told her. It would be true, it wouldn’t hurt. He knew the feeling. “Why would you stay here, Sandor? Why didn’t you leave? You should have left…”

‘For you little bird’, he wanted to hold her and scream it, to shake her and tell her that he wanted to see her home safely, where her family was and where she needed to be. She needed to be home, away from this torture. Joffrey had a new wife, but wouldn’t let the poor girl leave. ‘You need more protection than your simple suit of armor, you need someone besides the handmaid. Bloody hells Sansa.’

He let her pry his hand free and hold it, let her trace her fingers across scars like she always did. “This calms me,” She said finally with a gently smile. “This always calms me it seems, to see the scars on your skin.” She looked up at him, her Tully blue eyes were bright with moonlight, watered down, but bright.

He scoffed suddenly, and could see her smile widen. “I don’t know how little bird, scars aren’t meant to be calming.” He felt uneasy, talking like this. He never talked like this with her, just listened.

Her hand was suddenly on his face, the burnt side. He couldn’t feel much, but he felt the pressure, the surge of warmth in his stomach. He wasn’t used to this, never was used to this. He didn’t know if he liked the feeling or not, if it was a good feeling or not. If it was a safe feeling or not. He wasn’t sure. “It calms me,” She said again. “I’m not scared, if that’s what you mean. I was at first, but i’m not anymore.” She sighed, drawing her other and to his other side. “I like your face, just as it is.”

He bit back a rude remark, simply stared at her as she stared. This was uncalled for, and bloody hells was he getting in danger. She never touched him like this. But his stomach rolled and he was getting the urge to hold her, embrace her. He held back, he always held back.

A voice behind her startled him, but she kept her hands on him. “Sansa….” He warned, but she simply smiled, dropping her hands and standing. “You’re getting too buggering brave.” he mocked, standing along with her.

She simply giggled, the sound sending a chill down his spine. “I always love our talks, they calm me.” Shae was standing by the door that let to the bath. “Thank you, my lord. Please have a restful night.”

He bellowed a laugh, but simply nodded. “Aye, and you as well Sansa.” He moved past Shae, who was coiled like a spring, ready to fight if needed. She was crazy. The first day she saw Sandor walking in with Sansa, his hand holding the girl’s arm tightly, she ran towards him with a knife hidden in her skirts. He smacked her, once, but regretted it when Sansa scolded him. She then told her that he was helping. She’d been beaten by one of Joffrey’s knights, and her knees were giving way from the injuries, Sandor was simply trying to help her stand, maybe a little too roughly. But she didn’t complain.

He left the two to their business, heading to his own chambers, feeling the warmth in his stomach fade, and the feeling of coldness and hatred rise again. He needed to brake something, beat something. Drink something. Aye, wine. Wine makes the difference.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's side!

Chapter 2

 

Sitting in the warmth of the water was helping, and seeing his face tonight was nice as well. She was easing back the embarrassment and negative thoughts that always seemed to form in her head when she was taken to Joffrey, who took out all his hate on her, and his knights would do as he bid without a second thought. Besides the knight that helped her calm herself almost every night. He would sit quietly on the bed beside her, as Shae started her bath. He would sit as she complained, sometimes he would touch her hand if she touched his. Sometimes he would grunt, sometimes snicker. But silent nonetheless. Except for tonight, he talked back tonight. She asked a question though. She was infuriated at the King. He had a nice wife, why did she have to be the pawn to pain still? Why did she have to suffer each day? He called her stupid, beat her and stripped her, making her dress again because the Queen would be suspicious. She was beaten, always beaten. She sunk lower in the bath, with Shae standing right outside the door, calling her from time to time just in case.

She asked the knight, asked if he thought she was stupid. He called her stupid many times before the fight, with the green fire and the moment in her chambers. He spoke back this time, more words than he ever spoke since that fight. It was comforting, and it made her calm easily and faster than other times. He traced back the conversation, amused to hear the laugh he had made when she held his hands and played with his scars.

Then, her stomach swirled as she remembered the shocked look on his face, the wide eyed expression he made when she touched his face. He stared, and so did she. Just staring. It was intimate, more than she thought could be possible. He held her gaze, without a second thought. ‘Sansa...’ his voice was gruff and rough and raggedy, but she loved it. She loved all of it.

Why didn’t i leave with him that night? She huffed silently to herself. Why didn’t i leave with him and go home, become an outlaw and run with him, be near him all the times. Be near him? What was I saying. A flush flashed across her face suddenly as she dipped her whole face in the water. She never thought of that before, and it made her head spin. He wasn't the knights she’s always dreamed of, but those knights weren’t what she was looking for, she was taking a liking to his scars, his gruffness and the way his grey eyes were always shielding her.

A thought played in her head then, what if they still had the chance? What if she left now with him? Would that be possible? She stood in the bath suddenly, making Shea shove herself inside to stare at her in worry. “Sansa,” She began but quickly grabbed something for her to wear. “Here,” She insisted, helping her dress in her nightgown. “Come, let’s get you to bed.”

She curled herself in bed, feeling the coolness of the sheets wrapped around her, and suddenly, she wanted to feel the scars again. Shea wished her good dreams and left her in the dark, with the candles dripping the last of the wax that had melted. Her head was swarmed with the animal that saved her countless times. Would he leave with me? She asked, biting her fingers gingerly. If it was known that she was biting her nails, Joffrey might find that un-lady like and hurt her again. Tossing and turning, she laid flat on her back, staring at the darkness that is the ceiling. He stayed for me, would he follow me home?

She thought back to the time her mother and brother were at a wedding. Almost everyone died, but they left with a ‘close-call’ along with injuries. Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she felt the need of Sandor’s hand, hers on his face, so she could feel the roughness of his cheek. Why must this be so hard? She thought desperately. Reluctantly, she turned to her side and curled her legs to her chest and closed her eyes, dreaming of a fleeing her cage.

* * *

 Shae was dressing her with a flowing pink dress, and she was reminiscing the grey woolen dresses she used to wear at Winterfell. Sighing, Shae laced her bodice and Sansa had to wince at the tightness it was around her, but her dresses were shrinking, or she was growing, she needed new ones nonetheless. When a knock came at her door, Shea hurried to answer. Sansa fixed her hair as best as she could to make her presentable, but shivered when she heard the familiar voice. Shea gave him a snap when he said something that was impolite near a lady, but the man only laughed.

“Little bird,” the man said, and she looked towards the sound. Shea shut the door after she looked down the corridor to make sure no one saw. He walked towards her, but stopped short of her. “It seems His Grace calls for you.” he said with a hint of anger in his voice.

Looking back at the looking glass to fix another part of her hair, and saw her face frown. “Of course.” She hummed sweetly, then forced her lips to switch into a smile. Then, she stood straighter, her back arched and her eyes brighten. “Thank you, ser.” She hadn't meant to call him that, but to put on the armor she had grown, she needed to play the part as much as she could.

There was a growl that shot out of his throat, but he said nothing thankfully. She spun on her heels and took his arm, which wasn't offered, but he quickly adjusted so she could wrap her small fingers around his arm that tried not to hurt her. They walked down the corridor together, no words exchanged from the previous night. She wondered what he was thinking, but from the solid look he always gave, it was hard to read.

She expected to be led to where he sat upon the iron throne, where he usually was during the day, or near the gardens and waiting for Myrcella. But, she was led to his chambers, and he throat tightened and her hands involuntarily clasped his arm, which made her gasp when she felt the stinging sensation of her fingers clinging to the roughness of his chain mail. “Pardon me, my lord.” She whispered, retrieving her hand to her side and dropping her head.

Without another word, he stepped aside and knocking on the chamber doors. There was a call, but she couldn't make out the words. The Hound opened the doors for her to go inside. When she was frozen, he snarled at her. A command she knew all too well. Repeating her courtesies to herself, she entered the chamber doors, where Joffrey was along with the knights that beat her. he turned to her, holding a wicked smile upon his face. “Sansa, would you like to see my new toy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment or like to let me know to keep going!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for liking this story! It makes me so happy! I love you all!

Chapter 3

Sandor

He stood outside, like a good dog he was. Darkness was around him even though light was beaming through the halls. He had opened the door wide for the poor girl, watching her walk in with little expression as she could manage. Joffrey didn't like the girl who flailed around in agony. When he shut the door, he felt his stomach drop. Part of the Hound wanted to walk in with her, stand guard by the door just to see what he did. After the Battle of Blackwater, Joffrey didn't let him in when he played. Sandor didn't know if it was for punishment or if he was realizing the pattern they had made. At any point, Sandor did his best to protect the girl from being physically hurt, always making a comment to draw the King away from the girl onto something else.

So he stood outside, leaning against the door, hearing nothing but little whimpers and murmurs. She’s strong, Sandor kept telling himself, knowing the girl will manage. More than most thought. He swallowed, picking away at the hilt of his sword, feeling himself squeeze it until his hand hurt then felt numb. He held his breath when it came to be quiet. Then a thwack cracked into the air and slammed into something behind him. With a flinch, Sandor let out a ragged breath and bit his tongue from doing something. It sounded like a crossbow, which the little bastard had received for his latest nameday. Whores were given to him also, a present from Littlefinger, who was trying his best to keep his head on his shoulders and one-up the bald spider as best and fast as possible. The whores would be either sent back in pieces or bloodied too much to be of use. Lord Tywin turned his head with each comment, not wanting to believe any of it. But who couldn’t when it was too obvious. There was a shriek then, and a hard bang from inside.

The wicked laugh echoed in the room. The Hound lifted his head to look at the lit ceiling, swallowed and closed his eyes. ‘ _Bloody hells, how am i buggering getting through this?’_ He almost chuckled to himself when another thWACk came from inside. How is his little bird getting through this?

Whimpers and cries, laughs and hits repeated, his ‘loyal brothers’ of the knights were doing the same. Laughing and watching the girl crawl in pain. The hound could only imagine what it looked like, and it only made it worse. He flew his eyes open when he heard the boys voice from inside. “Dog!” Without hesitation, he opened the chamber doors and saw his little bird. _His_ little bird, on the ground with blood on her face, waist and arms, her hair was a mess and her clothes were almost off.

Taking a moment to clear his head of the things he could do to the King, he looked up from her towards the boy on the bed, holding his crossbow, reloading it with another arrow. Switching his face to look like his usual snarling dog, he murmured a deep “Your Grace.”

The bastard waved him closer, and he did so. “What do you think?” He asked when the Hound stood next to him by the bed, looking down at the girl that was pouring tears. “My mother told me not to kill her, yet, she’s such an annoying pest.”

The hound kept quiet, unsure on how to respond. He wanted to suggest letting her go back home, but the King wouldn't have it. Lord Tywin along with Jaime Lannister suggested it already, but he just shrugged it off. He didn't want his play toy to leave him.

The little bird had stopped crying, only looked at the floor with swollen eyes and lips, staring at nothing. She looked numb, dead, entirely misplaced on the ground, the emptiness in her eyes were fading into black. The King grunted in disgust, waved his hand to a knight beside her, who obeyed and sent his hand sprawling across her face. Then, the King handed The Hound the crossbow he was holding, an evil grin on his face. “Dog, i’ve seen you look at my previous engaged whore.” He started when Sandor grasped the bow. His stomach was twisting as Sansa laid on the floor, her face on the ground, her arms trying to cover herself with the ripped clothes. She was moving slow, but making progress. _‘Stop looking at the poor girl.’_ He commanded himself, switching his gaze to the boy beside him. “You have attraction for her, which i can not blame you. She has a good face, and her body is nice.”

Joffrey stood, watching the girl sit up again slowly. “Bring her to her feet.” He ordered, and the knight hurried her on her feet, keeping his hands on her as she stood limp, holding the cloth around her. “But it’s only an attraction i hope, just to fuck her?” It was a question, but also a statement. He wanted the hound to nod his head and agree.

“Your Grace?” The Hound asked, a little curious on what his next move called for.

The bastard looked at him, the glint in his eyes showed hatred, amusement, and a lust for death. “Shoot her.” he commanded. his eyes looking from the bow, to the girl who was standing with wide, hurt eyes full of betrayal. “Shoot her and kill her. If mother asks, i’ll tell her that she tried to run, but you caught her and killed her by accident, she’s such a fragile and weak thing. Go ahead dog, kill her. I don’t want to see her face anymore.” He said with disgust, clapping his hands together to tangle his fingers around, hoping to watch the girl die.

She didn't screamed nor cried out. She held her head steady and kept her knees still. Tears fell, and she locked eyes with Sandor, who saw the look of betrayal. the look of lost hope and the look of hatred. Hatred. Disgust. It tore at him, he felt his chest and stomach split almost in two. Shoot her, and watch as she dies from his hands. He loved to kill, watch his enemies fall from under him, but she couldn't die. Never die. Not by his hand, nor others. _I won’t let anything happen to you little bird,_ he wanted to tell her. _Believe me_.

As he watched her stare at him, he lifted the bow and watched her eyes widen. He could never betray his master. he was the loyal dog. Swallowing again and letting his air out, he pulled the trigger of the crossbow, heard the sound of the impact and heard the fall of a body, crashing against the floor. Gasps and shouts began, but he felt numb.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just getting cheesy, i'm sorry!

Chapter 4

Sansa

 

The sound was ear-piercing, the feeling became numbing and her eyes almost blanked. There was a sudden roar and crashes and shrieks before hands wrapped around her stomach and waist. She didn't feel much, and her tears were not helping her vision. She felt herself shake, twist and bounce until she was lifted up, over and on something. Arms were around her, and the darkness. 

* * *

Coldness was wrapped around her so suddenly she gasped and sat up, covering herself with her arms. An arm moved around and a hand clamped on her mouth to keep her from making any more noise. It was dark and the sounds of voices were in the distance. They were hollering something she couldn't pick out. There was a shiver in her skin that wouldn't leave. A warm breath against her neck wasn't helping the case either. When the voices and the sounds of hooves beating the ground faded, the hand loosened but his arm was still around her. “Little bird,” The two simple words that kept her mind from racing.

“Sandor,” she mumbled, and when she traced the line of his jaw, the memories flowed back suddenly. The bed chambers, the bow, Joffrey, the beating and the sight of Sandor holding the bow towards her with emotionless eyes. Suddenly the tears started again. She struggled away from the man but he wouldn't budge, instead, he held her close and tightened his grip. “How could you,” She whimpered, pain piercing through her stomach and arms. “you said you’d protect me.” 

The feel of rough ground made her shut up, but she kept struggling. She didn’t know much, but she figured out they had left, and they were in the middle of nowhere, in the wild at night. _What did you do?_ She wanted to scream. 

“Sansa-“ Finally, he let her go to fall backwards, hitting the ground and a excruciating pain wrapped around her stomach and waist. With a whimper, she curled into herself, crying miserably. _This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening._  

It was quiet for a while, and she felt the need to say something. But she didn't know what to say, how to say it, what was needed. She just knew she needed to say something, anything. “I’m sorry,” It was Sandor who started. “I had to, it was the only thing i could do. That’s bloody bastard needed it.” He said with a quiet voice. “You can’t die, especially not by my hand.” Simple words said by such a scary man. “You’re hurt on your waist. I bandaged it as best as i could. Don’t open it back up.” He said, his hands finding hers. “Sit up, little bird.”

She obeyed, holding his hand tighter. “Sandor?” She asked in almost a whisper. “Where are we going?” She let her fingers tighten against his. 

“Winterfell, back home.” it came so easy for him to say. She let her head fall closer to his hand, wanting to see his scars on his hands and arms. She let her fingers brush across his palm, where she knew a scar was, but couldn't see it, nor feel it. Only the rough skin he always wore. “Little bird?” 

“I can’t see your scars.” She whispered, mostly to herself. His hand lifted hers until they were tracing his cheek on his face, the bumpy grooved cheek and draw he wore. her mouth twitched into a smile, biting her lip in amusement. “Oh.” She said sweetly, sitting on her knees and sitting closer. She felt him tense, but sat still against the tree. “Do you mind…”

He grunted in response, her fingers tracing his jaw line where there was a dip. After a few moments, she left him be, a little embarrassed at her outburst. “We need to rest.”

“Thank you, Sandor. For always saving me,” She was tired, and knew the words would soon spill without her being able to stop. “and doing so much for me, and staying for me and leaving and…” But this time, the words didn't flow like she usually had. “You are the truest knight.” 

He let out a laugh, throwing his head back along with it. “Oh little bird, you’re blind and injured. Get some sleep before you say more things you’ll bloody regret.” 

She nodded her head without another word, looking around the dark to figure out where she should sleep. She didn't like the idea of him telling that she was just tired, but she also didn't want to say something she’ll regret later, so she obeyed in embarrassment. Finally, settling in a spot next to him, she laid her head on the hands against the ground, trying to make herself sleep. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry i'm a cheesy freak.  
> I hope you don't mind their relationship and the way i write  
> thank you all for dealing with me!!

Chapter 5

Sandor

 

He hadn't slept in three days, not fully. He had tried to use wine to help him, but the night was crawling with creatures and people he knew were hunting them. Stranger was making good time each day, never a heavy sprint unless needed. Sansa would sit in front of him, her hands braiding her hair as she hummed to him, singing him songs throughout the day. Each evening she would help start the fires, knowing his uncomfortable feeling around it. She would brush the horse and find them water. 

She was easy company he had to admit, and as they ate, she would sit close to him and nibble on the bread and lean against him. She did it casually and slowly, to try and make it seem so he wouldn't notice. But he did, and he enjoyed the feel of her light weight against him. Sometimes she would talk about her home and the days she play with her sister. Just her voice was nice to listen to.

Few days they found an inn, but once he did, he made sure to give her as much as she needed. “A bath for the girl, feather beds if you have them.” He ordered, paying the man enough to persuade him. Anyone could notice a girl with red hair and a man with a scarred face. Hoping to pay the man enough to keep his mouth shut. 

He nodded, widening at the amount. He ordered maids to hurry up and do the commands as his little bird ate porrage at a table behind him in the corner, her hair full of dirt and tangles, but still as bright as the first day he saw her. Sitting down next to her, he drank his wine, telling her the next roads and places they were about to head to. She never minded where they went, and didn't mind him correcting himself as he went on, picking away at the bread she wasn't touching.

He told her to bath as he finished his wine, and she did without hesitation. He sat in the corner, listening to the news and rumors that were trailing around the men. Nothing was important, except the bastard king had died from the imps hand, or so they say. He locked away and theres also a bounty for The Hound’s and the traitors daughter’s head. He let out a chuckle, then made his way up the stairs towards the room, hoping the little bird was clean and dressed. 

She was, in a light dress, undoing the covers on the bed. Her bandaged waist was now healed with no scars, just a tender spot she was gently with. When he closed the chamber door, she turned with her face lit red. “I’m sorry,” She mumbled as she looked down at her feet, which were bare and beautiful. 

Looking around, he eyed her. “What happened?” He asked, hearing the warning in his voice and automatically regretting it. 

Biting her lip, she sat down. “You should have bathed first, it was selfish of me to assume such a thing, i apologize.” 

He bellowed a laugh, dropping his wineskin on the table beside the bed. “I won’t be taking a bath this time Little bird, i’ve already had one. We need some sleep.” He took of his sword belt and set it by the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor, so get some sleep.” 

“No-“ She began. Sandor raised his eyebrows, looking at the pale small girl curling the covers around her. Her blue eyes shining on him as the candles melted around the room. He wanted to touch her, feel her hair locks through his fingers. He wanted to feel the coolness of her skin and kiss her lips, the ones he dreamed of too often. Just the thought would make him hard, but he left her eyes before he could do any more. “I mean, please.” 

No one ever looked at him like his little bird, nor asked him to sleep in the same bed as him. She did both, always did more and more than anyone else. he smirked at her. This happened at all the inns they stayed at, the first time was the most strange. She had simply stared at him, shifting uncomfortably in the bed as he sat on the ground. She asked, and he said no. She kept asking until he growled at her. The next inn, he obeyed. This one, he would do the same, but do what he wanted. 

She had to know what he was feeling by now. He might not have showed it much, but she should have figured it out sooner or later, or he’ll go mad. Undoing his armor, he slipped in the sheets with her, making her wriggle and shift until she was facing him and holding the covers to herself. “Sansa,” He started, reaching a hand to her back where he pulled her towards him. She yelped, but did nothing. “why do you look at me?” He asked suddenly. “A scarred old dog.”

Her hands were at his scars. “You are a cruel man but you are my savior nonetheless. You will not take my praises or compliments, but,” she traced his bottom lip with her thumb and he was shocked from her boldness. “I find myself drawn to you, so say and believe what you will, but i see the good in you and i love it.” She said, then gasped, covering her mouth with the hand that was on his cheek. Her cheeks lit up in red and her eyes sparkled. 

He tried to hold back as much as he could, to leave her be until she was ready, but he needed something, anything. At least from after what she had just said. He leaned forward, smelling her sweet sent from a fresh bath, and kissed her lips in a want. He felt her fumbled with her hands, planting them on his shoulders as her fingers curled around his shoulders. He pulled at her with an arm on her back, a hand fingering through her hair. He wanted her badly and it was agonizing. She moaned under his mouth as he felt his tongue across her lips. And when she gasped, he took the time to let his tongue trace her mouth, memorizing it as fast as he could. Because he knew she wouldn't let this continue, she was a proper lady and wouldn't let a dog touch her.

But with a surprise, he felt another moan, deeper and low, her hands shockingly trace around his neck to wrap around him, pulling closer to him. He almost wanted to scream and consume her all at once. Holding her tighter, never wanting to let the little bird go. As his tongue traced hers, he suddenly felt a hand hit him against his shoulder and he let go, looking down at her. She gasped, her face almost white. 

“San-“ She began, but coughed, trying to catch her breath. When she laid back, breathing heavily, he went on his elbow, staring at her in worry. He didn't mean to kiss her like that, not to that extreme. When he heard her velvet laugh, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

Swallowing, he mumbled her name nervously, but she only lifted a hand to his cheek and hid a small smile across her lips. It was as if a leash was being placed around him, he felt anchored to her and wanted to do anything she bid of him. He leaned down slowly, softly, waiting for her to move away or interject. But when he waited over her for a moment, his stomach and head pounding, she lifted her head quickly to lightly kiss him on his lips and draw a smile across her face. She fell back against her pillow with a giggle. “What, girl? Say it.” 

She shook her head, but said it anyway. “You’re so gentle, it’s surprising.” The words flew around him and hit him upside the head. Gentle? How could he be gentle? “Only to me i suppose, but thank you.” her hand went to his shoulder and tried to push him down next to her, but she didn't budge him. He laid down anyway, obeying. Hungrily, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, hoping she wouldn't object. 

She didn’t, just snuggled closer to him with a light hum, then closed her eyes and exhaled, wishing him good dreams. He didn't respond, his eyes were open and on the little bird by him. She was everything to him, he realized. The mighty Hound was broken by a small girl. He would kill for her, do as she pleased. Anything she bid, he would obey like a good dog. She was worth the hell he was going through, she was somebody to die for. 

* * *

Just to be clear, the Sandor did not hurt Joff when he had the cross bow, he injured the guards in the room then dealt with the rest. Since Sandor knew Joff couldn’t do much but just stand there and yell, he didn’t want the trouble of a kingslayer on his hands. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story was written around last January.. so i'm not really into it like i should be. So i might slow down and also write another fic as well. This fic is pretty cheesy so i'm sorry!  
> Thank you all for the kudos and comments, they're all wonderful! i'm sorry i can't answer a lot of them, family has been coming in this past week and a half!

Chapter 6

Sansa

 

Waking by the light through a curtain covered window was always the best way to wake, and the feeling of strong arms around her was a addition she wished she had all the time. She didn't want to move, but wished her back wasn't against him. She wanted to turn and watch him, touch him, huddle into him and wrap herself in him. But she would rather have him like this than move away when she woke him up. So she traced his fingers with hers and touched his arms, feeling his rough skin. As she tried to memorize his skin and more of the white scars that covered him, she felt a rumble against her back. “Girl, what are you doing?” He asked gruffly. 

Knowing he was awake and hadn't moved, she moved to her other side to face him. He wasn't entirely awake, but close enough. He grumbled a curse or two, like he does every morning, and closed his eyes again. Sansa smiled at him, watching his peaceful face. “We could rest here for the day, start again tomorrow?” She suggested, knowing he would say no. He never agreed to staying in one place for more than a night. It was always too dangerous. 

Giving off a small chuckle, he moved his hands to her waist, then up her stomach to caress her breasts and then to her shoulders, one hand moving to her throat. His eyes fell around her, a serious expression on his face. They moved in the same pattern for a few times without another word. Sansa wanted to grab him and kiss him, like the kiss they shared last night, but maybe be able to breath once in a while. She wrinkled her nose in a smile. But she felt her stomach pull towards him last night with the kiss, a pain shooting in her stomach. 

“Sandor, we’re both tired.” 

He growled. “Little bird, you’re tempting me, you’re a dangerous girl.” He said.

“Dangerous?” She questioned, slowly scooting closer. 

With a groan, his hands found her breasts again, his thumbs brushing the sides. “You’re killing me.” He mumbled, but she didn't understand what he meant. He noticed, bringing a hand to her hair and shoved her closer to him so he could kiss her, a longing, passionate kiss that would make her fall if she was standing. She felt the other hand wrap around her and pull her so she was sitting on his waist as he laid on his back, her legs straddling him. She let out a giggle and he growled. She kissed the side of his lips, kissed his burns and felt the bumps and curves and dips.

Brushing her cheek across his burns, she rested it there, wanting to feel his skin as much as she could. They laid like that for a while, but not long enough. He picked her up and told her they needed to leave before someone noticed them. He made her wear a hood over her hair, and one for him to try and soften the burns on his face. She happily obeyed, taking as much as she could from the rooms without looking suspicious. 

When they went to the stables, Sandor hurried them both on the horse and started off towards the north, hoping to get to Winterfell without any interruption. So far, it was going easily. 

* * *

Sansa never kept track of the days, but she knew it’s been a while since her last bath and last real meal. They were passing places and small villages she’s never seen before, and honestly didn't interest her. She was just happy with leaning against Sandor and singing him songs he’s always enjoyed hearing. When her head was on his shoulder and looking at the sky above him, humming random tunes, she stopped when he mumbled “Bloody hells.” She quickly tightened the hood around her, looking down at her hands to try and look somewhat unnoticeable.

Looking up, she heard voices and saw a group camping out by a river. “Who are they?” She asked him.

“Recruiters for the Wall.” He said, tugging at the reigns of the horse. “We’ll pass them, they won’t know who you are.” He mumbled, urging Stranger in a different way. As she watched them, she noticed a short boy, dancing about with a stick along with a dark headed boy, hitting each other as if they were battling. She squinted her eyes and saw the little one laugh, lean forward with his hand on his stomach, and look at the ground as he laughed, just like Arya would do… 

“Arya?” She practically shouted from across the field, but the little boy/girl turned her head, looking straight at her with a confused look. And then, a gasp and cry came from both girls. “Sandor, thats-“ She was practically hitting his leg. 

“I bloody well see that, girl.” He growled, leading Stranger to Sansa’s little sister. “Why would she be recruited for the wall?” He asked outloud, but knew he wouldn't get an answer. 

“Arya,” Sansa sighed with releif, hardly able to slide off of Stranger smoothly from the excitement in her voice. “Where have you been? Why are you here? Where are you going?” The questions spilled out, but there was never enough of them. She knew her whole family is known as traitors, but after the death of her father, she never saw Arya again, and now, in the middle of nowhere, she’s here. 

Arya, along with the dark headed boy, answered them all with a shushing voice, trying to correct Sansa as best as she could to keep her cover as long as possible. She explained what happened after King’s Landing, where she escaped and had been caught by Yoren and was to be taken to the wall. Sandor, on the other hand, was talking to that very man about what he was doing kidnapping a highborn girl _. So much for a coverup_. Yoren was flustering answers about as Sandor growled. No one questioned why Sansa was with the Hound, except for Arya, but Sansa just told her she would tell her later. “Where are you going?” Arya moved towards her sister, and Sansa realized just how tall and strong she was becoming, her little arms showed small muscle.

Sansa whispered “Winterfell” in her ear, knowing there were people around with ears that were bought. “Won’t you come with us?” Sansa insisted, almost begging. If her sister came back home, it could give Sansa reassurance that something good could come out from this whole situation. 

Arya looked up at the dark haired boy, who was still behind her, holding a bull helm. He fidgeted when Sansa looked at him. He gave a small nod, but let his head fall to stare at the ground. “What about Gendry?” Her sister asked innocently, her voice in a quiver. 

Sansa only shrugged. “He can come i bet, Sandor wouldn't mind.” With that, she heard Sandor give a chuckle from a few feet away. Sansa ignored it though, knowing he would let the poor boy come with them. 

Arya lit up then. Sansa looked over at Sandor with a bright smile, not letting him disagree with her about the matter. She wanted her sister to come with them, and that’s what they were going to do, even if the boy had to come with them. Finally, Sandor ordered two horses and the tall boy and short girl, then snarled at him a few more words before walking away, handing the reigns to the two of them and grabbing Sansa. “I’m bringing you home, i’m not at fault if they die.” He grunted with a bitter spit.

When she was sitting in front of him, she hit his arm. “Don’t say that, she’s my sister.” Sandor didn't like her sister, she knew. She was feisty and never gave the proper words that lady’s said, but she seemed to be acting more like the boys than any girl Sansa had met, maybe she’ll grow on him? 

He only grunted, snapped the reigns and starting forward, hearing the clapping sounds behind them of the two other horses. Arya and Gendry talked most of the ride, explaining their times in life and troubled days. Sansa and Sandor were a few feet ahead, Sansa simply humming to him like she usually did and him being silent and watching for anything disturbing around them. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sandor

His little bird, his little bird. The ring of it never seemed to tire for him. She was laying on the ground beside him as he sat against a tree. He took the time to brush his fingers along her hair, neck, waist and hips, feeling every curve he held himself from each grueling day. He looked over at the she-wolf and his new squire. They were curled on the opposite of the dead fire, sleeping soundlessly. The girl’s stick was beside her, her hands curled around it. She called it Needle, and it was a tiny sword, suits a tiny girl. She snapped at him several times, riled him up so he could snap at her, just so Sansa could give him a look. He was being defeated by two little girls. One he could handle, the second was troubling.

Hearing a moan, he looked back down beside him. Sansa laid on her back, her hand on her stomach and a wrinkle in her face. Another bad dream, Sandor thought. She moved and shifted like this each night it seemed, mumbling words he couldn't understand. Some nights she would claw at the air around her, or at him, some nights were calmer. He promised the girl an inn soon, but he hadn't remembered where the next one was. It was a few days since they picked up the she-wolf, which was a few days after the last inn. She needed proper food, rest and a bath. She needed more than this, more than him. He wanted to give her more, but at the moment he had nothing to give but his protection, but he wanted to see her in silks and flowers, to smell of lilacs and lavender. Letting his hand travel down her neck towards her stomach, he hoped she wouldn’t shift and cry tonight.

His hand clasped hers, and she tugged at it. He wanted to pick her up and hold her but he knew better. The only time he touched her like that was when she asked or started it, other than that night back in the inn, it was traces and hand holding when she was asleep or in need of it. She was the only thing he had, and he didn't want to ruin it so easily.

* * *

 

“What do you mean by that?” She snapped, her hair whipping across her face as she looked back towards him. She gracefully took the reigns of the horses, about to take them for water. More days had passed and Sandor didn't care to keep track anymore.

Sandor held his hands to his side, glaring at the girl. It was a petty thing, this fight. “I can’t give you luxuries out in the open all the time girl, learn that sooner than later. We still have a while to go. I’m not paying all my money for you to eat something besides rabbit.”

She laughed, shaking her head and petting Stranger, which she knew angered him that the death horse allowed her to touch him. “I’m not asking for such things Sandor, it was a simple complaint. You can not expect me to wander about and not complain about the situation all the time?!” Her voice was rising, and Sandor could see the wide-eyed expressions the two little children were making in the corner.

The restless feeling he knew she had was growing into anger and agitation. Who would want to spend all their time with a scarred dog like him anyhow? Like her sister, she was growing more into her wolf skin, and each day she was growing more braver and it worried him on how she didn't fear him like before. She’ll be fearsome enough that she’ll look away from me, rather than at me, and towards something new. “You complain all bloody time.” He shouted exasperated. his head had been pounding from another late night of watched the girl roll around, whimpering. “Even the she-wolf handles this better than you.”

Another laugh as she tugged the animals along. “She practically lives in the wild, and i do not complain all the time.” She stopped then, to look back at him. “I hear you complain more than I, and my complaints are simple and small, while yours are the distrust complaints you have for me and feelings of hurt. You tell me what to do and i obey, i’m blindly following you if you have not noticed. Now i would like some appreciation and respect from you towards me that i trust you so and am ‘chirping away like a pretty little bird’, Hound.” The last part she snapped, her eyes switching to her shield of armor she had placed on herself each time she went to speak to Joffrey.

Sandor felt himself rip in anger as she walked towards the creak down a ways for the water, letting the animals have their fill before they left. He growled, hitting the tree that stood behind him. “You messed up again, Hound.” The she-wolf muttered behind him with amusement in her voice.

He glared at her, unsure on how to respond to her. Because he did, he always bloody messed up. She was too perfect and simple, he wasn’t. Gendry, the squire boy, was cleaning the campsite with the help of the girl. He didn't talk to him unless Sandor talked first, but he easily talked to the little one and Sansa, which made him angry at times. “Just shut up about it.” Sandor muttered under his breath. He tried to figure if he should go after the little bird or stay, wait till she got back.

With another frustrated growl, he left the campsite to take a piss. Buggering hells, she’ll be the death of me. It was hard enough not to think about her pressing her chest against his each time he touched her, or feeling himself in her warmth. All he wanted was to trap her in his arms, shed her of her armor and clothes and wrap her in his. She deserves better, I’ll bring her to Robb, he’ll find her a nice husband. Highborn, worthy. After he relieved himself, he came back, noticing everything packed and ready, Sansa fixing her skirts and taking no notice of him.

His nose twitched, his head still pounded from the rough night. His hands met her waist, lifting her light body on Stranger. Meeting her, he felt her inch away from him when he sat behind her, leaning forward rather than against him. They always had their disagreements, but they recovered from them quickly, it wasn’t like them to linger about things for a while. And they’ve been going at this topic all morning it seemed.

She didn’t sing for him, didn’t touch him or talk to him, just listened to the she-wolf talking about her life and Sansa explaining hers. The she-wolf and boy were gaping with the things she explained, and with each little thing she said about Joffrey, the more Sandor’s blood boiled. His hands clenched the reins of the horse, his head pounded more and the want for killing was high. “Most of the knight beat me, stripped me and embarrassed me, it was horrible.” Her smile was a sad one, she bit her lips. “It wasn’t the nicest place to be, but I’m thankful I wasn’t traveling in the wild like you.”

Her sister looked shocked at the comment. “It wasn’t that bad, you would have liked it. Probably wouldn’t have the dresses, but you would’ve liked it more than the beatings…”

“Or the lemon cakes.” Sandor muttered under his breath.

Sansa straightened her back to hear his voice, a hand resting on his thigh as a gentle laugh left her throat, Sandor’s heart throbbing. “No, no lemon cake I suppose. I do like lemon cake.” Finally, her back brushed against his chest, and head lightly placed on his shoulder. His stomach twisted and knotted and his breath almost stopped. “Sandor?” She asked, and when he looked down, he noticed her eyes closing.

“Little bird?” She looked exhausted.

“Promise me lemon cake soon?”

He sucked in a breath as she drifted off in his chest. “I suppose, little bird.”

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic! Hope you guys enjoyed!  
> Please comment if theres anything you want to add or if you enjoyed it!  
> I don't have someone who reads it over, so i'm sorry for errors.


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